


Alcohol: Oh Yes You Fucking Can!

by caleprwrite



Series: Stucky Bingo 2019 [1]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Acrophobia, Alcohol Induced Dancing, Beard Burn, Bearded Steve Rogers, Blow Jobs, Borderline Predatory Steve, Bottom Bucky Barnes, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Gets the D, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes-centric, But Bucky's Good With It, Drunk flirting, Engineer Bucky Barnes, Forehead Touches, Foster Family, Foster families, Hair-pulling, Happy Ending, Hickeys, Hypersensitivity, Junior/Senior Executive Activities, Language Kink, Latin Community Influence, M/M, Meme-Induced AU, Power Imbalance, Sexy Fluffy Ending, Steve Rogers Likes to Bite, Steve Rogers Likes to Cuddle, Steve is an Old Fashioned kind of Guy, Stucky Bingo 2019, Team-building Activities, Top Steve Rogers, Verbal Consent, blowjob, ex-SHIELD Steve, innuendos, safe sex, together
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-27
Updated: 2019-09-27
Packaged: 2020-10-29 18:15:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 19,434
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20800820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caleprwrite/pseuds/caleprwrite
Summary: Bucky has a problem.The mandatory team building retreat for Stark Industries executive leadership is just one week away, and he’s been assigned Steve Rogers as his partner for all of the obligatory Junior/Senior Executive activities. Yeah... paired with that Steve Rogers, the new Chief Design Officer with the Great Ass and the Killer Smile and the ridiculous amount of charm that oozes from practically every pore of his flawless, pale Irish skin. They’ll be spending an indeterminable amount of time together and Bucky has yet to find an effective means of containing his thirst, at least one that doesn't involve strict avoidance.In other words, Bucky is fucked.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So there was this [meme](https://twitter.com/caleprwrite/status/1156446261630738432?s=21) on Twitter... and I fully blame @steebadore. 
> 
> It's taken me nearly two months, but I think this little baby bird is ready to leave the nest. Consider this my attempt at shoving it out and saying, "Fly, baby bird, fly!"
> 
> Leah and Dottie, thank you both for everything, cheering me on, putting up with me through a whole lot of ugly, and for being there to encourage, to distract with humor and to help me get through some big stuff. 
> 
> Leah, thank you for the beta. You're amazing!
> 
> *Also... while this fic isn’t tagged for non-con or dub-con because Bucky and Steve are both very much consenting, there is alcohol use involved.

**Chapter One:**

“Butt-cky!” Clint hollered, coming up behind Bucky to grab him in the side where he’s most ticklish.

“Jesus, Clint! What the fuck, huh?” Bucky yelped. He clutched his chest, willing his heart out of his throat and back into some form of a normal rhythm. 

Bucky’s not proud of his response, in fact, he squawked out a noise that he would deny making until the day he dies, but Clint’s amused, so that’s what matters, right? If it were anyone other than Clint, who was basically family, he'd have been pissed. 

They'd just met at Prospect Park for their Monday evening run, a tradition whether the weather called for it or not, and the fact that it's late summer and sticky outside is a testament to their commitment. Bucky’s oldest, most assholey-est friend bent down to tighten his shoelace, giggling like a twelve year old boy who'd just seen a picture of boobs for the first time.

“Sorry, sorry! Just couldn’t help myself. What’s got you so wound up, anyway?”

Bucky scowled at Clint, beginning their warm up jog in silence once Clint stood. He didn't answer because he didn’t feel like being a mature fucking adult, and he was allowed, goddammit. It was after five, so it was high time for insubordination.

Clint picked up the pace, grinning sidelong at Bucky as they sped up a little. He waited a few minutes to draw Bucky into a faux sense of comfort, but then slapped the back of his hand against Bucky’s abs, making him grunt. 

Clint gave him a shit-eating grin. “So? What's your problem, man?”

“Rogers.”

“Hottie Rogers? My new C-Suite pal you've been not-so-secretly thirsting over? I thought we liked him.”

Bucky rolled his eyes but nodded an affirmative as his cheeks heated in embarrassment. Talking wasn’t hard enough yet, Bucky realized, so he and Clint needed to run faster; he'd do anything at that point, whatever it took, just to worm his way out of saying it aloud, so he upped his stride. 

They were finally running at a moderately-fast pace. Much to his chagrin, Clint still had lungs of steel, and their speed wasn’t detracting his curiosity in the least. 

“So the stick up your ass is named Rogers, huh?”

“Yup,” Bucky groused, furrowing his brow.

He glanced over at Clint as they passed a young mom running with a toddler in one of those long, awkward looking running strollers. Natasha had one of those for her and Clint’s twins. Honestly, Bucky had no idea how she was able to steer the thing.

“Bet you’d be a lot easier to deal with if it was actually _ Rogers _up your ass instead.”

“Oh!” Bucky scoffed, annoyed that he’d run right into that pun. “Fuck you!”

Clint lost pace a moment, cackling as he gripped his gut in laughter, but caught back up. “Alright, alright. Too easy. My apologies, low hanging fruit and all… but really, what's wrong?”

Bucky rolled his eyes again, thanking every god under the sun that they had to pay attention and work their way around a group of slower runners. He let the silence drag out, nodding in a general hello as they passed the pack.

“Who’d you get paired with for the retreat next weekend?” Bucky asked, trying to steer the topic away from his impending existential crisis. Clint was one of the Senior Executives, CEO of cyber security at Stark Industries.

Clint made an unimpressed little noise. “Odinson. Guy seems like he’s got a real god-complex, if you ask me. Like, he's the only one in renewables who's _ worthy. _Don’t know much about him, but I could probably teach him some humility.”

Bucky made a noncommittal sound. He didn't know Thor Odinson very well, either, but he seemed like an okay guy. Maybe it was a cultural thing... Thor was from one of those small Nordic countries. Either way, Bucky was sure that if spending some time with Clint and his misfit cyber security team didn't help Thor work well with others, nothing would.

“Too bad they couldn't assign me my favorite baby cousin,” Clint teased, smacking Bucky playfully on the ass as he fell in step behind him, the two of them squeezing past another crowd.

“Yeah you'd think that since we're not blood related it wouldn't be a problem,” Bucky tossed over his shoulder with a grin, his breath coming out in harsher puffs of air. He was going to have to sit at his computer less and do cardio more, Jesus. There was no reason Clint should be doing better than Bucky's _ barely _29 year old lungs on their run.

Clint huffed a grunt in agreement. “Somethin’ about gettin’ to know people outside of the office setting that makes it cheating if _ we’re _ partners.”

By the time they finished their cool down stretches, Bucky thought he was in the clear. The joke was on him though, because that's exactly when Clint brought it up again with yet another smart-ass comment. Bucky's attempts at deflecting clearly weren’t working as well as he’d hoped.

“So what's your deal? You get teamed up with Rogers and now you gotta actually talk to the guy or somethin’?” 

When Bucky didn't reply, Clint’s brow furrowed but then his eyes went wide._ “Oh. _No shit?”

“No shit.” 

Clint let out a low whistle and cuffed Bucky on the shoulder. “Sorry, man. I'll pray for you— or whatever it is I'm supposed to say here. When do you meet with him?”

“Tomorrow mornin’, ten sharp. Got any advice?”

Clint snorted a laugh. “Yeah, ask him if he's into dudes so you'll know if you got a shot. That way you can— _ Ow!” _ Clint yelled as Bucky slugged him in the shoulder. “Jesus, _ Barnes, _respect your elders or some shit!”

*****

The next morning, Bucky woke early. He drank some coffee, ate a protein bar and brushed his teeth. Looking at the clock, he breathed a sigh of relief; he still had plenty of time to shower and shave. After he’d finished in the bathroom, he wandered about, changing his clothes no less than three times. 

Becca’s alarm went off and she came out of her room, grumpy as fuck and in a hurry to pee. When they collided in the hallway and all she did was grunt, Bucky went to pour her a cup of coffee. It was purely an act of self defense.

“Thanks,” she grunted again as she took a long drag from the cup. 

Bucky’s face scrunched up at the sight. His sister was gross. How the hell could anyone down black coffee, unsweetened and hot as fuck without so much as a grimace? 

“What are you so nervous about today?” she asked as she turned back to her room to get dressed.

Bucky lied. “I’m not nervous.” 

He heard Becca snort in laughter from her room. Their apartment wasn’t huge, but that was just rude and uncalled for, okay.

“You’re not nervous,” she deadpanned. “You’ve changed your clothes twice already. _ And _ you keep fucking with your hair.”

And wow, talk about being called out, but Becca was wrong. He’d changed _ three _times, thank you very much.

“Got a big day?” she asked, a sly grin on her lips as she leaned against the bathroom doorframe where Bucky was, indeed, fucking with his hair again.

“Something like that,” he sighed, looking back at his best friend and baby sister. He turned, holding out his arms and raising his brows, silently asking for her approval.

Becca set her cup on the counter and tugged at the collar of Bucky’s shirt. She centered his tie and smoothed her hands down his shirtsleeves, brushing away invisible lint, then grinned up at him. She finished by tucking back the one lock of hair Bucky had that never, _ ever _ did what it was supposed to do. 

“You look great,” she shrugged, “but then again, you always do. Relax, huh? You’re intelligent and you have integrity, so whatever it is, you’ve got this.”

Bucky exhaled a little bit of the nerves that had been jumping around in his body all morning. He was grateful to have Becca in his life, grateful that no matter what happened throughout their years as foster kids, they were never separated. It was rare for male-female siblings to be kept together, but since they were only eleven months apart, everyone kind of treated them like twins. He couldn't imagine his life without her. 

She kissed him on his cheek lovingly and in true sibling fashion, shoved him out so they could switch turns and she could commandeer the mirror. She was mid-blend with her foundation when Bucky’s phone, still on the counter, buzzed. When she looked down to see a message from Clint, she grinned like she’d just read the best thing ever. 

“Hey James?” she called with a teasing lilt to her tone.

Bucky froze. It wasn’t that she never called him by his given name, she did that all the time when she wanted to be a pain in his ass. But _ how _she did it sounded an awful lot like Becca having serious dirt on him.

“Uh... yeah?” he asked making his way back toward the bathroom.

Becca didn’t turn, just continued to apply her make-up as she smirked, “Who’s Hottie Rogers?”

Bucky almost choked. _ “Who? _ Uh, what are you talking about?” he sputtered. 

He came fully into the bathroom to see her nosing around in his phone and immediately snatched it back from her, an embarrassed blush burning hot in his cheeks. Becca laughed, going back to the mirror and acting like she was totally innocent. 

“Oh, I can’t _ wait _to hear about this one from Nat!”

_ “Jesus, _Becks!” he huffed, shoving his phone in his pocket and fastening his watch. He shook his head and huffed a laugh. “I'll see ya later.”

Bucky grabbed his keys and suit jacket on the way out the door. He grinned when he heard the loving lilt to Becca’s voice. “Bye, Bucky!” 

*****

Ten o’clock seemed to take it’s sweet time, and it was torture, trying to focus and concentrate on anything other than the meeting with Rogers. They had to come up with an activity to get everyone moving, so Bucky sat in his office going through Pinterest, searching “team building activities”. And maybe it was just him, but most of those things looked incredibly dumb.

There were ideas about blindfolding someone and giving them directions to get through an obstacle course, but he didn’t really understand what the hell that would accomplish other than to get a group of people yelling at someone who couldn’t see. There was the thing with the straw and the potato, which was just _ done, _ okay. Then there was the human knot, which looked interesting, but how the hell would he and Rogers demonstrate something like that with just the two of them? Maybe they could ask for a volunteer, but… tying people’s wrists together for the exercise didn’t sound safe. What if there was an emergency?

Sam, Bucky’s friend in the Life Sciences Division needed to vent about his current project. The specific client he was dealing with was known to be a pain in the ass, but that was literally anyone at the Pierce Corporation. Bucky asked open ended questions, which was something he’d learned from Sam, ironically, and urged him to keep in mind that Pierce had a reputation for a reason.

Bucky printed out a few ideas from what he found on Pinterest and stuck them in a folder after going to the restroom to fuck with his hair— _ again— _ and brush his teeth. It couldn't hurt to get rid of coffee breath before going into a one on one with literally the hottest man on the planet. He dried his hands and stowed his toothbrush back in his desk, and just as he grabbed his folder, America called from her desk out front. 

“Rogers is ready for your meeting. His assistant said the sooner the better.”

“Thanks,” he said quickly on his way out. 

Rogers was Chief Design Officer, and since Design was only two floors up, Bucky took the stairs. It was still ten ‘til and technically, he wasn’t late. Exiting the stairwell, he realized he was breathing a little faster than usual. 

_ Fucking nerves. _

Bucky stopped right outside of Rogers’ office, waiting for his assistant to finish the call he was on. He looked up and as soon as Bucky made eye contact, the kid mouthed something while holding up a finger. Bucky waited politely, noting that the kid’s name was Peter, not kid. 

_ Noted. _

“Sorry about that, Mr. Barnes. Give me just one moment.” Bucky watched as Peter pressed a button. “Mr. Barnes is here for you. Will do.”

Peter got up from behind his desk, which was quite a bit larger than America’s, and fancier by far. Bucky followed him and nodded in thanks as Peter held open the door, gesturing for Bucky to enter. 

“Can I get you two anything?” Peter asked. 

It was a good thing that Bucky wasn’t addressed directly yet, because he was still wrapping his mind around Rogers’ office. To put it to scale, the office used to belong to Tony Stark before he’d renovated and moved to the entire top floor of the tower. Bucky vaguely heard Rogers dismissing Peter which cued his brain into some form of functioning.

Rogers, dark blond hair combed perfectly and beard excellently groomed, wore a white dress shirt with a paisley tie. The way his chest and arms filled out the shirt left Bucky feeling a little bit gangly and a whole lot parched. 

Rogers easily walked across the large space, meeting Bucky with his hand extended. “Bucky, right? I see James on everything official, but Clint said I should call you Bucky.” 

_ Clint fucking would. _

When Bucky realized he was still holding onto Rogers’ hand, he immediately let go. He shifted so he was conveniently holding his leather folio with both hands, just kind of hanging onto it loosely against his hips in the practiced stance he reserved for when he needed to appear relaxed but really wanted to run and hide behind something. 

“Uh, yeah, Clint’s family,” Bucky answers, and oh, no, he can feel his cheeks heating up so he keeps talking because that's never gone tits up. “He pretty much calls me whatever he wants and I have to sit there and take it.”

_ What the fuck, Barnes? _

Bucky wants to die, but Rogers just laughs easily. Bucky can't help but notice how his eyes crinkle at the edges and his teeth are perfect. 

“Everyone calls me Steve, but I don’t have a fun story behind it, so…” Steve shrugs, shoving his hands back in his pockets and looking at Bucky, an unreadable expression in his remarkably blue eyes. He bites down on his lower lip and slides it out from between his teeth while turning back to his desk. 

In the name of all that is holy, Bucky uses every bit of willpower and resolutely does _ not _stare at Steve’s ass. But that’s a lie, because Bucky is not only human, he’s also a complete gay disaster. 

And Steve, Steve is… walking away from him with his hands in his pockets. The fabric of his pinstriped pants is pulled tight across his ass as he walks and that also showcases just how muscular his back is. Which is… very. Steve tosses a look over his shoulder and smirks, almost catching Bucky in the act and Bucky blinks hard as he feels heat prickle his cheeks.

_ Steve is even hotter up close. _

He invites Bucky to settle into one of the chairs facing him, and it’s odd. Sitting across the desk for the type of meeting they’re having feels off. Something about it helps enforce the inequality in their power dynamic, especially when there’s a more casual seating area just off to the side next to the wall with the built-in bar. Not that he thought they’d have drinks at ten in the morning, it’s just amazing how _ Stark _the office is. 

_ Not the point, Barnes. _

Steve settles into his high-backed leather chair. “I’m new to the retreat dynamic here, but you’ve been a Director for a couple of years now, right?” he begins and Bucky nods. “How many times have you been up there?”

“This will be my third,” Bucky answers. 

Steve cocks a brow. “Yeah? Who were you paired with before?”

Bucky grins. “I worked with Pepper the first year.”

“Really? Started right off with the VP, huh?”

“Yeah,” Bucky laughs nervously, squeezing his folio in his hands. Steve watches him with that unreadable expression again, and it’s a little unnerving. 

“Hm. You might be able to handle me then,” Steve says, cocking a brow. 

Bucky looks at him, and it takes a moment for the comment to sink in. When it does, Bucky is already frazzled so he takes offense. What does Steve think, he’s just some kid who can’t handle the big leagues? Maybe that’s the problem. Bucky’s been so off his game because of this attraction he has to Steve that he’s come off as lacking confidence. 

_Fuck that,_ he tells himself, and_ fuck Rogers._ The guy can kiss his ass. Bucky’s great at his job, and he’s got big plans for his career at Stark Industries. He’s worked his ass off for it, and like Becca told him this morning, he’s got this, goddammit.

“Right, so I pulled some ideas for the team building activity,” Bucky says, redirecting the conversation and proving not only that he can do his fucking job, but he can set the tone of the meeting. He opens his folio and pulls out the papers, slides a copy over to Steve and rests his folder back on the chair next to him. 

Steve peruses the ideas, his brow furrowed in concentration. He’s quiet for longer than needed, and it’s getting under Bucky’s skin, so when he looks back up expectantly, there’s a hint of an edge to Bucky’s tone. 

“Thoughts?”

Steve shrugs, “Blindfolds and rope, huh?” and there’s that look again, but darker. “That’s an… _ unorthodox _ expense report.”

Steve’s looking at him like he’s… well, like he’s chosen his words carefully and he wants to see every bit of the reaction they have. Bucky swallows hard, and suddenly all of his annoyance with Steve is forgotten, replaced with interest again. There are a lot of layers to the man and Bucky wants to see them all.

“Uhm...” he says in response, his throat feeling dry. His skin is betraying him and he can feel the heat flushing his skin under his collar.

“Look, I have someone coming in a few minutes,” Steve says, glancing at his watch. “I’ll see what I can think of too, and we’ll meet again this Thursday at six. Chinese sound good?”

“Oh. Okay,” Bucky says, standing.

Steve leans back a bit, his hand running down his tie casually. “How do you want it?”

“How do I want… uh, how do I want what?” Bucky asks, not missing the way Steve’s eyes trail down his body before flicking back up to make eye contact. 

Steve smirks. “Your food. The hotter the better if you ask me.”

Bucky blinks hard, and he’s saved by the tone of Peter buzzing again, probably about Steve’s next appointment. 

Steve pushes the intercom on his end and answers, still looking directly at Bucky, “Yeah Peter?”

_ “Ms. Carter is here, sir. She says you're expecting her,” _ Peter’s voice comes through as a bit of a question. 

“Send her in.”

Steve stands and puts his coat on, buttoning it just as the door opens. He flashes a charming smile to the beautiful brunette that Peter escorts in. It’s close to the same smile Steve’s given Bucky every time they’ve orbited each other, circling almost close enough to meet but always _ just _ missing each other. It's similar, yet there’s something more intimate in it. 

_ “ _ _ J'ai beaucoup pensé à toi ma chère,” _Steve says to her in… French? Fuck, Steve just keeps getting hotter because Bucky’s got a secret language kink. It’s not as if the guy needed any help in the attractiveness department, either.

Carter goes right in for a hug and she leaves a bright red painted kiss on the apple of Steve’s cheek. She laughs good naturedly, wiping the color off, best as she can. Bucky doesn't miss the British accent when she asks Steve, “You’ve been practicing?”

“Mm,” Steve replies, then turns to Bucky. “Pegs, I’d like you to meet Bucky Barnes, we're working together next weekend. Buck? This beauty here is Peggy Carter, my oldest and dearest friend.”

“Darling, you flatter me,” she says in feigned annoyance to Steve, patting his cheek for a brief moment. When she turns her pretty brown eyes on Bucky, he can't help but squirm. She grins, pleased with the quick once over she gives him. “Bucky Barnes, hmm? That's quite the alliterative you've got there, young man.”

It's just a little teasing, Bucky knows this, but still he can't help the need to explain. When his name is given in context, like he's sure Clint gave Steve, it makes sense. Otherwise it leaves him sounding like a bit of a child. That's why he usually goes by James at work.

“Yes, well,” Peggy replies. “He must like you if he's already given your nickname one of its own. I don't think Steve has called me Margaret in earnest a day in his life.”

Peggy is beautiful, and polite, and genuine, but It’s been the most bizarre morning of Bucky’s life and it leaves him feeling like he’s standing in the middle of something extracurricular waiting to happen. He's a little disappointed in himself when he feels something akin to jealousy, too, because that’s stupid. He has nothing to be jealous over, Steve’s a co-worker. Not a friend… or a lover. Or anything, really.

Bucky can’t get out of Steve's office fast enough.

French to English translation:

_ J'ai beaucoup pensé à toi ma chère _: I’ve been thinking about you a lot, my dear.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

Time flies by and Bucky’s busy trying to wrap up his latest draft of the prosthetic limb he's been developing. If it works, it will be the most advanced of its kind, mimicking the natural body as far as range of motion, dexterity and sensation. It’s been his brain-child forever. In fact, the progress he made on it between his Master’s and Doctorate programs at MIT landed him his interview and job offer from Tony Stark himself. 

Bucky’s so immersed in the quiet and the ability to get things done, that he completely forgets it’s Wednesday night. When his phone goes off, he’s in the sweet spot, so he ignores it. The sun’s already set, it’s a lot later than he usually gets out of work, and he has absolute tunnel vision. His phone buzzes again, then again, and his desk line rings shortly after. 

“Barnes,” he answers, pushing the button for speakerphone so his hands are still free.

“You ignorin’ me on purpose?”

“Hey Clint, what’s up?” Bucky replies, distracted.

He hears a sigh but it doesn’t sound frustrated. Rather, it’s empathetic. “I'll have you know the girls were demanding their Uncle Butt-cky. They about had it with Becca tonight. She doesn’t give the same level of service with her piggy back rides as you do.”

_ Fuck, Wednesday!  _

Bucky finally realizes his mistake. He and Becca have dinner with Clint, Nat and the girls every Wednesday, and it's not like him to miss it. He checks the time, but it’s well past seven, past the twins’ bedtime. If he leaves now, he won't even get there in time to help tuck them in.

“Shit! I’m so sorry, Clint. I got goin’ on this and you know how quiet it gets after hours—”

“—Hey, hey, I get it. Sometimes that’s the only time you can get any of your own shit done,” Clint interrupts with an understanding chuckle. “It’s cool buddy, m’just giving you a hard time.”

“You sure?”

“Yeah. The girls went down early tonight, they’re gettin’ their two year molars, so they’ve been pretty pissed at the world all week.”

Bucky makes a sympathetic sound when he hears about the girls, but then he has to recheck his last calculation. He stopped paying attention to the algorithm when he realized he was missing time with his nieces. He mutters something about electrical relay under his breath and Clint can tell he’s officially lost Bucky’s attention. 

“Nat’s sending some food home with Becca.” 

“Hm? Oh, nice. Tell her thank you for me, yeah?”

“You bet. See ya tomorrow.”

By the time Bucky gets home, it’s almost ten and his stomach is anything but happy; it was growling so loud the lady across from him on the train actually looked up, and  _ that  _ was embarrassing. He texted Becca when he was on his way from their stop, hoping that she’d take pity on him and heat up the food, since she sometimes did sweet things like that for him. 

He climbs up the stairs, and he can smell Nat’s delicious  _ pelmeni _ and wild rice as soon as he gets to his door. It's his favorite and he knows she makes it special for him, so he can't help feeling a little like an ass all over again.

“Honey, I’m home!” Bucky calls as soon as the door is shut behind him. 

He takes a deep breath of the fragrant food and tosses his keys into the bowl by the door. After kicking off his shoes and hanging up his jacket, he peeks into the kitchen and sees Becca dancing with her Beats on, and he assumes they’re full blast. He’s got an awful urge to sneak up and scare the shit out of her, but thinks better of it since she’s taken pity on him and heated up the food. 

Bucky snorts a laugh as Becca belts out the chorus to one of Meghan Trainor’s songs in what has to be  _ the worst _ singing voice known to man. She’s such a dork but he loves her, so he stands quietly, waiting for her to turn. She does a little shimmy shaking her bubble butt and it takes everything in him not to laugh out loud, but then she finally looks up.

_ “Jesus Christ!”  _ she shrieks and launches the tupperware lid at his head.

Bucky can’t help it, he cracks up laughing and bends forward, clutching his stomach. He reaches out, drawing Becca into his arms, only to get slugged in the shoulder after she pulls her headphones off.

“Becks!” he cackles, “I’m sorry,  _ I'm sorry!  _ I didn't mean to scare you. Don’t kill me!”

“You’re a dick, Bucky,” she pouts, shrugging out of his embrace and pushing him away. “You know what? You can make your own damned leftovers.” 

It’s all an act, because as pissed as she is, Becca’s still taking the bowl out of the microwave and stirring the rice. Bucky pulls up one of the barstools and settles in at the counter. He pulls off his tie and rolls his sleeves up a little higher to get comfortable, digging in with his fork as soon as the bowl is within reach. 

“Mmm...” he moans appreciatively while at the same time trying to breath in cool air and not burn himself on the food. “You’re my favorite sister.”

“M’your only sister, dumbass.” Becca slides her open bottle of Blue Moon across the counter to Bucky, taking pity on his burning mouth. 

“See?” he says, holding up the beer and chewing through another mouthful of food. “That’s why you’re my favorite.”

Becca goes to the fridge and gets another beer for herself. She cocks a brow at Bucky, leaning against the counter and crossing her arms. He knows he’s got a few questions coming his way, but there’s only so much brain power left in him at the moment so he scarfs down more food, hoping he’ll be able to deal with the interrogation better on a satisfied stomach.

Becca rolls her eyes, “Okay, I’ve officially been sweet. Spill.”

Bucky gulps more beer and burps obnoxiously. He never drinks anymore, so he really can’t help the reaction. “Spill what?”

“Gross,” she scoffs. “Don’t play dumb with me,  _ James.  _ I know you met with Hottie Rogers the other day.” She points at him with her beer and narrows her eyes, “I wanna hear all about it.”

“Wow. Anyone ever tell ya quid pro quo’s against the law?”

Becca rolls her eyes again, and Bucky thinks one day she'll roll her eyes so far she'll be looking out of her own asshole. She's an attorney, so she fucking knows about quid pro quo, and as if on cue, she corrects him. 

“That’s for sexual harassment, which absolutley does not apply here. And to reiterate my point from a minute ago,  _ gross.  _ Nice try, though.”

“Why don't you tell me what you know about Hottie Rogers, and I'll elaborate,” Bucky offers. It's purely an attempt to buy himself more time to shovel food into his maw, but he couldn't give less of a shit about using such a basic tactic if he tried.

Becca sips her beer and shrugs. “Clint says he's the new guy at S.I. and your crush on him is so big it can be seen from space. Sounds pretty hot, though, from what Clint says.”

“Hot’s a fuckin’ understatement.”

Becca beams, leaning closer across the counter, her curiosity piqued. “What's a girl gotta do to get the tea then, huh?”

Bucky snorts a laugh. He tells Becca all about how Steve is built so much like Atlas he could probably carry the world on his shoulders. He tells her that there’s a sexy tint of ginger in his beard, that his dark blond hair looks so yank-able that it should be in shampoo commercials, that the shade of his eyes is bluer than anything he's ever seen, and that he's completely, laughably  _ out _ of Bucky's league.

“Wait—  _ what? _ Why?” Becca demands. 

“Because, Becks,” he shrugs. “He's literally the hottest guy on the planet. ‘Sides, I think he’s already interested in somebody.”

“Who?”

“When we had our meeting, his  _ ‘oldest, dearest’ _ friend came in and he dropped everything for her,” he says, air quotes and all. “I mean, we barely got minutes in before she dropped by. Guys like him don't just take visitors like that unless the person’s  _ important.” _

Becca frowns, her protective side coming out with full vengeance. “That's not cool. Do you even know what you're doing for next weekend?”

“Nope. Gotta meet with him again tomorrow after hours. I'll probably be home late again, so don't worry about waiting up, yeah?”

“Don't let that guy walk all over you just ‘cause he's in the C-Suite, Bucky. Those dudes can be dicks. He needs to understand that your time is valuable, too.” 

She's right. Rebecca Barnes has gone against her fair share of executives treating her like a little girl sitting at the big boy’s table both in and out of the courtroom. It’s partly because she does a lot of work with nonprofits, but no less due to her gender. As much as NYC is liberal, there's plenty of the good ol’ boy clubs around still, but Bucky doesn't think Steve shares that mindset... at least he hopes not. Either way, that's not how Tony Stark runs things.

*****

On his way to Steve’s office the next evening, Bucky walks through Design and the floor is a ghost town. It's just about six on a Thursday, so at least his R&D people who get in later in the morning are still around downstairs. 

It's possible that it's unique to how Bucky lets his team work, but he's found that if you listen to your staff when they offer their peak productivity times, the end result is better for everyone. Happy employees are more engaged employees, and in his field that’s important, so it’s a surprise when he rounds the corner and sees Peter still at his desk. 

“Hey Peter,” Bucky greets him, more informally given the time of day.

Peter returns the greeting with a bright smile and gets the door. “Hi there, please come in. Mr. Rogers is expecting you. I’m just waiting for the delivery and I’ll be outta your hair.”

“Thanks.”

Bucky enters the office and the lighting is low with the exception of the sun reflecting off the lower buildings surrounding them. It makes the space feel warm and intimate, and something flutters in Bucky’s belly. All the fantasies he’s had between being assigned to Steve and that moment come rushing back. 

Steve’s got his feet up on the desk, long legs stretched out and crossed at the ankle. His tablet in his lap and he’s wearing thick-rimmed black glasses that somehow give him a softer, more approachable look. He glances up and grins when he sees Bucky, removing the glasses and Bucky tries to hide the disappointment from the glasses being put away so quickly. 

Steve’s yes flick down Bucky’s frame and back up, taking him in. He reaches out and takes a sip of his drink, an Old Fashioned, by the looks of it. It makes sense. Bucky’s had him pegged correctly as a whiskey man from day one.

“Get ya something to drink, Buck?” Steve greets him.

There’s that nickname again. Nobody other than Steve has ever called him  _ Buck _ and he’s not sure how he feels about it yet. One thing’s for sure, he doesn’t think he’ll ever be able to hear the name without thinking of Steve.

“Uh, yeah. Thanks,” Bucky answers, watching the bob of Steve’s adam’s apple as he swallows the last gulp. 

Steve stands, stretching his impressive frame and loosening his tie as he does so. He pops the top button of his collar and rolls his shoulders. He’s got to be at least six-foot-two, maybe taller, and he’s packing a serious amount of muscle under his clothes. Everything he does has Bucky mesmerized; the way his body moves is so graceful it’s almost feline. 

“Got some Belle Meade if you’re an Old Fashioned kinda guy,” Steve says over his shoulder as he makes another for himself. 

Bucky watches as he taps the sugar cube, pours in the whiskey slowly. His hands are precise and he doesn’t measure anything, just moves by muscle memory. Bucky can smell the orange rind as it’s peeled and Steve takes an extra minute to eat a slice of the fresh fruit. 

“Buck?”

“Huh?” Bucky replies dumbly. “Sorry…”

Steve huffs out a soft chuckle and murmurs something under his breath as he licks juice from the orange off his thumb. Bucky’s never been jealous of a thumb before, but apparently there’s a first time for everything.

“Old Fashioned?” Steve asks, turning and holding his own drink up.

“Oh, yeah. Yes. Please. That’d be great, thank you.”

Bucky’s a beer guy if anything. He’d done far too many shots of Tequila back in his college days, so ever since, he’s just not big on the hard stuff. Even when he liked to drink, he never really needed more than one whole beer to get a quick buzz, so the fact that Steve’s pouring him an  _ actual  _ drink leaves him a little out of sorts. He’s not going to give that away though, because he knows this is how networking can be; he’d just never been a part of it until now. 

Peter walks in just in time to save Bucky from saying anything else to embarrass himself. He sets the food out at the small coffee table by the two plush lounge chairs and sofa. Bucky’s hoping there’s something other than whiskey to drink, especially since he forgot his sweet tea downstairs.

“Anything else I can get either of you?” 

“No, go on home, Peter. Have a good night,” Steve answers for both of them as he puts Bucky’s glass directly into his hand. 

Peter’s eyes track the movement; he’s being thorough, probably, but Bucky can’t help wondering how it appears. Steve answering for him, then physically handing him a drink feels a little possessive, but he’s probably overreacting. He ends up just giving Peter an awkward shrug. “See ya, Peter.”

Steve settles in one of the chairs and gestures to another next to him. It’s angled toward Steve, so they’ll be able to talk and eat. Bucky sits and Steve passes him a container of stir-fried tofu with steamed rice.

“Thanks. Hey, that’s my favorite,” he says awkwardly, but then inhales the aroma and grins.

Steve takes a bite of whatever’s in his container and answers with just a hint of a smirk, “I know.”

“You do?”

“Mhmm, had Peter talk to your assistant. America, right? Cool name.”

Steve seems more relaxed once Peter’s gone and they’re sitting comfortably to eat. It’s odd, the change in his demeanor; almost like now that he’s established himself in a position of absolute authority, he’s more calm and open. 

“America’s the best. I dunno what I’d do without her,” Bucky says. It’s easy to sing her praises. She’s been a true lifesaver for Bucky, helping him navigate the executive waters while still carving out time in his schedule for hands on work. 

As they eat, he tells Steve how that balance was his biggest concern when he was promoted to Director. He wanted to make sure there was still time for him to use his education, time to work on his project. 

“Your project?” Steve asks. Bucky’s kind of opened himself up for more questions with the way he talked about it, so he tells Steve. Besides, it would be nice to get a designer’s take on aesthetic one day.

“It’s gonna be great. I mean, I have a few prototypes, but they’re not refined enough for what I want yet,” Bucky says, tossing back the rest of his Old Fashioned. 

He’d gotten so wrapped up in talking about the prosthetic and eating the delicious dinner that he forgot it was practically all whiskey. Every drink of it up to this point was a sip, but with a gulp he can feel the burn all the way down his esophagus. Bucky coughs a little and his eyes water, but when he breathes out, he likes how everything feels warm, down to his fingertips. Since he’s made it to the tail end of his drink, he can taste the sugar and bitters, and there’s a hint of orange at the back of his tongue.

“Okay?” Steve asks, holding a big, warm palm against his shoulder. 

The grin Steve shoots him makes Bucky’s cheeks flush pink. There’s a playful glint in Steve’s eyes, and Bucky’s already feeling a little careless. Relaxed.

“Mm. Very,” he smirks flirtatiously, holding the glass up and peering at the ice and orange peel. “S’really good.”

“Another?” Steve offers and Bucky can’t say no. Well, he could. He just doesn’t want to. 

“Mhmm,” Bucky mumbles, handing his glass over to Steve. 

Bucky's words are lazy and the air feels thick. He watches Steve and the way he makes the drink is no less mesmerizing the second time around. There’s something about the way he handles the instruments at the bar that draws Bucky’s eyes to his hands. They’re strong, powerful looking and he can only imagine how they’d feel on his skin.

_ Fuck, focus Barnes. Not the time for a fantasy. _

Steve returns with their drinks, and he’s just got a whiskey poured neat for himself this time. He settles back in his chair and opens another box, this one smaller. 

“Ever tried Honey Chili Potato?” he asks after swallowing the bite, angling the carton toward Bucky so he can see in. It smells incredible.

“Nu-uh. Can’t say I have,” Bucky says, his brow furrowed in curiosity.

Steve digs in and holds his chopsticks out with the perfect bite. Bucky looks from the chopsticks in Steve’s hand to his eyes and also notices that Steve’s leaned forward in his chair so they’re that much closer. He doesn’t want to leave Steve hanging but he’s also never been fed by anyone like that, and he’s not sure how he feels about it.

“C’mon, Buck. Open up, I promise you’ll like it,” Steve says, holding his gaze. There’s a hint of a challenge in Steve’s expression, like he’s daring Bucky to do as he says.

Bucky’s never been one to back down, so he opens his mouth, not missing the way Steve's eyes track his lips. He takes the food, and Steve was right. It’s delicious. But it’s also awakened a different kind of hunger inside of him, a hunger that food can never satisfy. There’s only one thing that can, and this isn’t the time or place for it, so he washes the spicy potato down with more of his drink. 

It turns out, that wasn’t the smartest thing he could have done, because the whiskey only intensifies the burn of the red pepper in the sauce. He takes another drink and another, the alcohol content dulling his pain receptors. It’s a means to an end, so he’s temporarily satisfied, but he needs to get this meeting wrapped up before he does something stupid. 

“You decide what you wanna do?” Bucky asks, trying to keep his vision from swimming as his head falls back against the soft, welcoming chair.

Steve hums. “That’s a broad question, Buck. You’re gonna have to be more specific.” 

Bucky hears himself snort a giggle and Steve takes a sip of his whiskey, looking at Bucky appreciatively. “Y’know what I  _ mean.  _ The thing to get people movin’?”

Bucky can feel the grin on his lips as he’s speaking to Steve, and there seems to be less of the invisible line separating them, now that he’s been actually fed by the man. The office keeps getting warmer... or maybe it’s Bucky’s skin. Whichever it is, it’s got him unbuttoning his cuffs and rolling up his sleeves. He takes a page from Steve’s playbook and pops the top button of his shirt, loosening his tie. 

Steve notices that Bucky’s movements aren’t exactly as fluid as they usually are, but they’re deliberate. “Are you getting too warm?” he asks.

“Lil’ bit. No big deal,” Bucky shrugs, then fixes Steve with an intentional look, his brow cocked just so as he waits for an answer to the question. He hopes the flirting is subtle enough to shrug off in case he’s reading the entire thing wrong.

“What’s that face for?”

“Still didn’t answer. Y’got any ideas or you gonna complain about mine and not offer anything  _ constructive?” _

Steve’s brows rise and he shoots an amused grin back at Bucky. He chuckles and his striking eyes dance with mirth, “Wow, Buck. You gonna tell me how you really feel?”

Bucky‘s cheeks heat up and he knows he’s bordering on a bad decision, but he’s been drinking and all his fucks have flown away. “Look I’m just sayin’, we don’t have a ton of time to figure it out,  _ ‘specially _ not after I was double booked.”

Bucky gets up to go over to the bar where he sees bottled water through the clear refrigerator door. He’s thirsty and he also needs to move around, but he rose a little to fast and now his head’s spinning. He thinks he’s able to play it off, and he just kind of saunters over to the cooler. 

Steve follows him over and reaches into a cabinet above the fridge. He pulls out a small paper bag and hands it over as Bucky finishes the long pull of water, enjoying how the coolness of it helps awaken his senses, the ones he needs to get through this meeting. Bucky reaches into the bag and pulls out… two red silk scarves. 

_ What the actual fuck? _

Steve moves closer, his eyes tracking Bucky’s own eyes, his lips, the very microexpressions he makes. “You gave me some ideas, remember? I figured this would work with either one. Tied up, blindfolded, whichever one you like best.” 

Steve’s voice drops an octave, as if that were humanly possible, and Bucky feels that warmth from the whiskey flooding back through his body. Except this time, he’s not drinking it. The closer Steve moves, the more Bucky feels like he’s being pulled into his space, like they’re two opposite magnets. 

It’s not easy to resist, but Bucky can’t in good conscience say he actually tries. 


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

Steve pulls his phone out and turns the soft instrumental jazz that’s been playing in the background to something more up-tempo. It’s Salsa; Bucky recognizes it from the many parties in the neighborhood where his foster parents, the Proctors live. It’s a heavily Latin area, big families and parties almost every weekend. He’s always loved that about the neighborhood; it’s homey and unique and full of color.

“What’s this for?” Bucky asks, lazily waving a finger up at the ceiling in a circular pattern. 

Steve shrugs, “Consider it my contribution to our list of ideas. We can teach everyone to dance.”

Bucky laughs nervously. “M’not a dance teacher, Steve. Haven’t much danced since my baby cousin’s Quinceañera a few years ago.” 

“Bucky Barnes dancing at a  _ Quinceañera?” _ Steve asks feigning shock, and fuck Bucky, because Steve’s pronunciation is spot on. “Please, tell me there's a video of this in existence somewhere.  _ Anywhere.” _

“There is,” Bucky laughs, then moves in a little closer to  _ just barely _ close the gap. He lowers his voice conspiratorially. “I’m not the only one on tape, though. It’s heavily guarded by some of the most ruthless foster kids in Bed-Stuy. The Proctors are real loyal, too, so good luck with that, pal.”

Steve seems surprised at the admission that Bucky is a foster kid. He cocks his head slightly as his brow furrows, but then he swiftly recovers with another playful quip. He reaches out slowly and pulls Bucky closer by his tie, and his bright blue eyes are full of mischief. 

“So you’re saying if you showed me, someone would kill me?”

“Yeah,” Bucky rolls his eyes, “something like that.”

Steve’s hand closes over Bucky’s and he puts the scarves down on the counter. He’s pulling him over to the area where there’s enough space that they won’t knock into furniture and Bucky follows, feigning reluctance. 

“Come on,” Steve says, pulling Bucky into a loose embrace, “dance with me.”

“Steve!” Bucky laughs, tossing his head back. The room is still warm, and he can feel his cheeks getting more rosy as the seconds tick by, but this is  _ fun. _

“Come on, Steve. I can’t dance,” Bucky lies even as they begin moving together. 

“Sure seems like you’re doin’ okay. What’s wrong, Buck, got somethin’ against dancin’ with another man?” 

Bucky huffs a laugh. He seriously thought he gave off a pretty steady signal, but maybe Steve has shit for gay-dar. 

“Only man I have a problem dancin’ with is my ex.”

“Good,” Steve grins wide. “Looks like maybe I got a shot then, hmm?”

Steve settles into his frame a little more as they continue to move. He’s an excellent dancer and the way his body moves is the literal embodiment of a chef’s kiss. Bucky’s glad he clarified, because this way Steve will know that yes, Bucky  _ is  _ into men. At the same time he can’t get past feeling weird about mentioning his ex. Who the hell does that when they’re trying to chat someone up? It’s a perfect example of why Bucky Barnes can’t have nice things.

It doesn’t take long before it’s easy to let that go, too, and he gets lost in the music and in Steve. They’re not  _ actually  _ Salsa dancing, but they’re keeping tempo and moving together perfectly, hands laced loosely together. The smile on Steve’s face is full, natural, like he’s genuinely having a great time, and it makes something pull in Bucky’s chest. The little cat and mouse game they spent the better part of the evening playing has fallen by the wayside, and there’s suddenly this real, authentic person in Steve’s clothes. 

“Okay, but I can’t actually  _ Salsa,” _ Bucky faux-protests with another laugh of his own.  _ Oh, yes you fucking can,  _ the alcohol disagrees, so he feels the need to clarifiy. “Not well enough to teach anyone.” 

Steve turns Bucky, pulling him back in so Bucky’s back is against Steve’s chest. He holds onto Bucky’s hand, their arms wrapped loosely around Bucky’s front and then lets go of Bucky’s hip for a moment, spinning him out again before pulling him back into his embrace. It’s dizzying and Bucky stumbles, falling deeper into Steve’s arms. The tiny, rational part of Bucky’s brain is disappointed in him for being so stereotypical like he’s in a rom-com or something, but the rest of his body is telling that little voice to shut the hell up. 

Bucky's having a blast, and he hasn’t been on a date in forever. He  _ knows  _ that’s not what this is, but he’s having a great time anyway. With as hard as he works, he tells himself he deserves to enjoy it. 

Steve continues to hold him, pulling him close and swaying their bodies as the music slows. Their fingers thread together on one side and the hand that Steve had wrapped around Bucky’s hip moves to the small of his back, pulling him in. They’re almost chest to chest with the exception of their height difference. Bucky’s not a little man. At just under six feet tall, he’s above average, and he’s got his own decent musculature. Steve, on the other hand, is enormous. It’s only as they dance so closely that Bucky realizes just how much bigger Steve is. He’s a good three inches taller and has god-only-knows how much more muscle. 

Stacked as he is, Steve is gentle in the way he holds him. Bucky’s got the strongest urge to lay his head on Steve’s shoulder, maybe even tuck his face into the crook of his neck and just breathe him in because he smells incredible. The song is over far too soon and the music changes into something quick again. It’s like the spell is broken, reality crashing back down onto both men as they part. 

“We can, uh… we can also try the other ideas, right?”

“‘Course we can.” Something flashes in Steve’s grin, something more playful, mischievousness. “You gonna let me blindfold you?”

Bucky looks up at Steve. He shifts from one foot to the other and chews the inside of his cheek to avoid saying something stupid, because it’s  _ right there. _ His eyes dart over to the counter, where the bag and red silk scarves lie, the bright color in direct contrast to the sleek marble and dark wood cabinets.

“Where’re you gonna have me to walk to?”

Steve grins and it’s that same shit-eating grin from before, the cocky one where one eyebrow flicks up higher than the other. It does things to Bucky, lots of them. 

“Follow me,” Steve says as he turns to the bookcase lining the far wall.

Bucky’s brow furrows. He’s not sure what book Steve could possibly have that will make sense of the question he just asked, but hey, stranger things have happened. Steve stops walking and lightly drags his fingers along the spines of the books on one shelf. He tips a big black leather book out and Bucky’s mouth falls open as the panel sinks back, then slides out of the way, revealing a doorway.

“A secret door? _ Steve! _ You have a  _ secret door!” _ Bucky laughs, giddy like a child. “This is the coolest thing I’ve ever seen!”

Steve can’t help but laugh with Bucky, but then he grows quiet. He suddenly seems less confident, almost nervous. “Just remember, Buck… this used to be Tony’s office, right?”

Bucky cocks his head, waiting. “Yeah? Why, what’s wrong?”

“It’s just— it’s wild but it’s also so  _ cheesy,”  _ Steve says, holding his arm out and stepping back for Bucky to walk through the opening. 

What’s waiting for him on the other side actually makes sense, considering the way Tony works for days on end, but also because he was known for being a complete man-whore before he and Pepper happened. 

The luxurious bedroom that lies just on the other side of the wall can only be described as  _ extra.  _ Even the glass doors that open up onto a narrow balcony overlooking the city below are giant. There’s recessed lighting that casts shadows in strategic places throughout the room, and a king size bed in the center made up with enormous pillows and luxurious linens. The bed has tall, ornately carved dark wood posts, and Bucky’s mouth goes dry as he momentarily pictures himself tied up with red silk as Steve takes him apart in every way possible. He blinks hard, trying to clear the vision from his mind but it doesn’t work.

Bucky walks over to the glass doors, sliding one open and taking one step out into the night. He desperately needs to take a minute, so he breathes deep, inhaling the evening air as the lights and sounds of Midtown Manhattan filter up from so many floors below. 

“This is surreal, Steve,” he breathes, trying to keep from laughing at the absurdity of it all. He carefully steps up to the glass railing that comes about to his mid-abdomen. “I mean, is this really my life right now or am I inside some spy movie?”

Steve snorts an unbecoming yet adorable laugh, and joins Bucky on the balcony. “It’s nice up here, huh?”

“Yeah. It is.”

“Ready?” Steve asks, gesturing back to the office with his chin. “I’ll blindfold you and see if you can make it back here. I’ll even let you cheat by listening for the traffic.”

Bucky smirks. “You’re on, Rogers.”

*****

Bucky’s back is to Steve’s office door and he’s standing a few feet in front of it. Steve grins at him as he approaches, his hands idly twisting the silk scarf. There’s the glint in his eyes again, one that says he’s enjoying this, enjoying the way Bucky’s eyes track his movements. He steps closer to Bucky, bringing the scarf up to his neck and then lightly pushing each side back so it’s draped backwards.

The fabric is cool, smooth and the way it softly tickles the skin of Bucky’s neck makes him think of the many other places it would feel good. Steve rounds Bucky, comes in close behind him, and Bucky can feel the distance between them closing. There’s electricity crackling in the air between their bodies. Bucky’s pulse is pounding in his ears and he swallows down the nerves that are creeping up the back of his neck. If he had to use his hands right now they’d be trembling, shaking uselessly with the maddening desire to reach out and touch Steve. 

He stiffens at the sound of Steve’s voice behind him. It’s low, near his ear and almost a murmur. Steve’s close, and the scent of his cologne somehow helps Bucky relax. 

“M’gonna blindfold you now. Is that alright?”

“Okay,” Bucky breathes. 

He’s desperate for more of Steve but at the same time he hates how far gone he is on the man. They hardly know each other. Bucky’s a professional, and Steve is a superior, technically, but Bucky tries not to think about that right now. The fabric settles against his eyelids and he couldn’t see anything if he tried. He knows, because the moment the fabric was placed against his eyes, taking away his sight, Bucky had a second of panic and tried to get that sense back.

“Tell me what you see,” Steve orders, as though he can read Bucky’s mind. 

Bucky swallows, telling himself he can do this. “Can’t see anything.”

“Good, Buck. That’s real good.” Steve’s strong hands come down on Bucky’s shoulders and he squeezes just right, exerting control over Bucky and helping him focus. 

Bucky thinks he must be going crazy because he can almost feel Steve’s breath against the sensitive skin of his neck as he speaks, and that sensation mixed with being blindfolded has his breathing running a little shallow. 

“You know you were facing my desk, and you’re smart enough to already have some kind of strategy, so I’m gonna turn you a time or two.”

Steve’s hands guide Bucky as he turns him slowly to the left. Keeping his balance isn’t the easiest thing to do, but he makes a valiant attempt. After what Bucky counts as one and a half slow turns to the left, Steve stops him and turns him the other way.

That’s when it happens. 

Bucky’s equilibrium was able to handle the first movement, but once he’s going the other direction, he’s suddenly got two left feet. He reaches out to steady himself from falling and his hands catch a thick cut of muscle under his fingertips. He can feel the dip from under Steve’s pecs as he trails his hands down to his abs. Steve’s hands come up and cover Bucky’s, not pushing him away, but holding him in place as Bucky tries to find his center of gravity. Steve’s chest wall can be felt under Bucky’s fingertips, rising and falling with each breath.

“I— I’m sorry,” Bucky offers quietly, moving to pull his hands away but Steve holds them against his body.

“S’alright, Buck. You steady now?” he asks gently. “Don’t want you to go fallin’ already.”

Bucky reads more into Steve’s words than he’s meant to, but he can’t help it. He stiffens, garnering whatever poise is left in his tank and nods once. “I’m ready when you are.”

_ Get your shit together, Barnes. _

Steve lets go and steps back. He breathes out a deep breath, and Bucky tries not to think about how it almost sounds like Steve is trying to regain control over himself, but they have to get this project done. Thirsting over Steve Rogers isn’t going to help Bucky at the retreat come next weekend. 

“Begin by taking two steps to your left,” Steve says, his tone suddenly rife with authority. 

Bucky does, but he must overshoot, because Steve huffs a soft laugh when Bucky almost stumbles over nothing, just still trying to find his balance. “You sure you don’t want a hand?” 

“Yeah, I’m good,” Bucky lies. “Now what, how many steps do I take?” He pushes Steve for his next move, because he feels exposed without being able to see. It’s unnerving.

“No,” Steve corrects. 

Bucky can just barely hear him moving about. His voice is coming from a different direction now and he sounds entertained, though there’s a dark edge to his tone. 

“You don’t get to ask questions, pal. Gotta depend on me for this. You go where I say,  _ when _ I say. Understand?”

Bucky swallows and every last bit of doubt he had is gone. He wants this. More than this. He wants  _ Steve. _

“Yes.”

“Yes,  _ what?” _

“Yes. I— I understand.”

“Mm,” Steve hums. “I was looking for a yes,  _ Sir, _ but that’ll do.” 

Oh. 

_ Oh. _

“Move one step back.” Steve’s voice is to his right, and it’s somehow impartial now, like he’s giving basic instructions on how to screw in a light bulb. Lefty loosey, righty tighty. 

Fuck that, Bucky wants to get another possessive reaction from him. 

“Yes,  _ Sir.” _

Bucky can’t help the smirk on his lips or the tease in his tone as he does as he’s told. He’s trying to see if Steve’s control will outlast his attempts at being a little shit, because by this time, there’s no doubt in his mind that there’s definitely something between them. It’s slowly rising to the surface, waiting to see who will act first, which one of them will reach out and take it, make the water bubble over into something real and tangible.

“Good boy,” Steve says and Bucky’s body stiffens, every nerve ending lighting up. 

Bucky does his level best to not let it show on his face, the way Steve’s words are making him feel. He tries to control his breathing and curses his traitorous body for whatever it’s doing because he’s positive his skin matches the color of the blindfold as he waits for his next command. He can feel the heat radiating up his neck and blooming in his cheeks. 

“Now slide to your right one full step.”

He does as he’s told, silently this time, just to see if Steve wants a response to each order. The wait for every next command is the worst, because Bucky never knows which direction it comes from until it’s there. It’s almost impossible to keep his hands from reaching out to see where Steve is, but he doesn’t want to give Steve the satisfaction. 

Steve makes no noise, moving gracefully and silently, if at all, but then his voice comes from directly across the room from Bucky. He sounds too far away.

“Take seven even paces forward and wait there,” Steve says. There’s an impressive amount of control in his tone. 

Bucky takes the first one tentatively, because one single step here and one shuffle there were somehow far less daunting than striding blindfolded across an unknown space, trusting the person directing you to let you know if something is in the way. 

Bucky’s concentration is interrupted by Steve as he orders, “Count them out loud for me.”

“Three, Sir. Four,  _ Sir. Five, Sir…”  _ Bucky says, through a smart ass grin because he really is his own worst enemy. Steve is behind him the next time he hears him, and Bucky finishes counting out his steps the same way until he reaches seven. There’s an extended pause, and he thinks Steve is probably still behind him, but he wouldn’t put money on it. Bucky can’t hear anything over the sound of blood rushing in his ears and has no idea where he is in relation to the agreed upon endpoint, to the room behind a  _ secret door, _ for God’s sake. 

“Anyone ever tell you that you can be a real brat sometimes, Barnes?” 

There’s an audible intake of Bucky’s breath as he jumps from the sound of Steve’s deep voice coming from behind his ear. It sounds intimate, teasing. He licks his lips and tries to control his response before answering.

“Just you.”

“Mm, that surprises me.”

Bucky swallows thickly, waiting to see what’s next. The sound of his heart beating is too loud, and it’s thudding against his ribs so fast. Bucky can’t hear the sounds of the traffic and he has no idea if he’s still in Steve’s office or if they’ve made it to the…  _ fuck,  _ to the bedroom. 

“Maybe ‘cause I’m so good at it?” Bucky smirks. His voice isn’t steady but he’s desperately grasping at the false pretense of having the upper hand. It’s always a false pretense with Steve, because Bucky’s never had the upper hand with him. Not once. 

“Take three steps to your right.”

Bucky does, and he almost trips over something big— a piece of furniture, maybe? He catches himself before he falls, and he’s immediately irritated that Steve watched it happen without so much as a word. No warning,  _ nothing.  _ He’s embarrassed and he’s angry, mostly because his ego took the brunt of the hit. _ _

“What the  _ fuck, _ Steve? You’re supposed to tell me if I’m gonna walk into something!”

Steve finally laughs then, dark and amused. “And _you’re _supposed to follow my instructions. Did you forget who’s in charge here?”

Bucky doesn’t reply, just bites back the pissy retort that’s ready at the tip of his tongue. He figures he’s already done enough by cursing at Steve, and he really just wants to kiss that audible fucking smirk off of Steve’s sexy goddamn face. He wants to bite his bottom lip, bury his face into his neck, breathe him in and suck at the skin right there under the angle of his jaw. He also knows that if he has any hopes of getting there, he doesn’t need to dig his hole any deeper. Besides, at least he’s got an idea of where he is now, considering the furniture he almost ate shit over feels just like one of the chairs sat over by the bar area.

So Bucky swallows the last morsel of pride he had remaining and answers, voice tight, “No, Sir. You’re in charge. I follow the orders.”

“Just  _ whose _ orders do you follow, Bucky?” Steve asks. 

Bucky can feel his chest rising and falling with every breath. He knows his cheeks are flushed and there’s a tiny sheen of sweat collecting across his brow, at the nape of his neck. He needs to cool off, so he reaches up and pops the next two buttons of his shirt, loosening his tie further as he does so.

That’s better. He just needs air, is all. He needs to make it over to the open balcony doors, feel the breeze on his skin. Inside the office,  _ Steve’s _ office, with Bucky’s lack of vision and with his other senses heightened, everything smells like Steve; the hint of that spicy sweet musk that Bucky’s becoming addicted to… it’s almost too much. He can’t keep his cool, he wants to curl up in the warmth of it yet at the same time he feels like he’s about to spontaneously combust. 

“Answer me,” Steve demands, bringing Bucky’s attention back to the moment. 

Heat begins to pool low in Bucky’s gut. “Yours. I follow your orders, Sir.”

Goddamn Steve for the way he keeps making Bucky say it. The more he says it out loud, the more he wants to believe it. He wants to kneel at Steve’s feet and profess it, declare it for the world to know. 


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four:**

It’s a lot of back and forth, give and take between Steve and Bucky. Mostly it’s take; Steve is the one doing the taking and Bucky has resigned himself to give Steve everything he wants. The way Steve praises Bucky when he does just as he’s asked has him flushed and trembling, but he still thinks he’s doing a good job of hiding it. At least, he hopes he’s done a good enough job in willing himself to not stand there blindfolded and rock hard from the way Steve will murmur commands low and soft into his ear. 

The next thing he knows, Steve’s voice is coming from across the room, or in a direction Bucky thought for sure was a solid wall. But that’s just it. Steve has played this little game with Bucky so well that really, what he’s playing _ is Bucky. _ He’s made him purposely run into him three times now. Each time, Bucky reaches out to catch himself only to get a feel for just how much of an immovable object Steve’s body can be, the muscle of his chest and arms, his torso, solid and warm under Bucky’s trembling hands. 

Steve knows exactly what he’s doing, and it makes the thrill for Bucky that much more exciting. Because here they are in Steve’s office at Stark Fucking Industries… and somewhere along the way, Bucky’s brain has gone fully offline. It’s taken a seat somewhere in the back and kicked off it’s shoes, done for the day; which isn’t necessarily a good thing considering the one at the wheel now is Bucky’s body. The decisions his body wants to make aren’t good for his self respect, nor for his common sense. It’s been far too long since he’s been touched like a lover and he _ wants. _

The alcohol in Bucky’s blood clouds whatever bits of judgement he has left. He’s okay with it though, because a good dicking down by Steve Rogers sounds so much better than anything else he can think of. He just wants to make it to that fucking bedroom already.

Nobody’s ever been so bold as to say Bucky Barnes doesn’t have a great imagination. It’s part of what makes him so creative, so dedicated to his goal of making the mechanical prosthetic work the way he envisioned it. He _ knows _it will, he’s known it since the inspiration first came to him. But now, his imagination is practically running wild on him. It’s making him envision Steve commanding, dominating him. Telling him to walk forward until he trips over the bed only to have Steve pin him down and fuck him senseless. 

That’s what he really wants. 

So when he thinks about things like _ workplace, _ and _ professional, _ the words are of very little importance at the moment. Bucky thinks he can feel a gentle breeze on his skin, and immediately he knows they’re close. This is it. Do or die. 

He’s just completed the most recent set of instructions from Steve so he cuts in and asks, “Do you feel that?”

“M’feelin’ a lotta things right now, Buck. You gotta be more specific.”

Steve is feeling things. The admission gets Bucky’s blood pumping faster, and he’s toeing the line of boldness. 

Steve is close again from how he sounds, and Bucky can practically feel the electricity between their bodies. Everything about him has loosened up, his vocabulary and tone says he wants this just as bad. Every hair along Bucky’s right side is standing on end and a shiver runs from that shoulder, up the back of his neck. Steve has to be on that side.

“Feels… like a breeze. Just a little,” Bucky replies. He doesn’t even try to hide the way the edges of his lips turn up with the hint of a grin. “Can feel it on my skin.”

“Like this?” Steve asks. 

Bucky’s breath hitches and there’s the sensation of soft air being blown against the skin of his neck. It’s coming out in soft puffs, then moving lower to where the first three buttons of his shirt are undone. Steve is so close, he can feel the heat coming off of him.

“Or this?”

If it’s at all possible, Steve moves even closer to Bucky’s skin as his words trail up the column of his throat. Bucky subconsciously tilts his head, baring his neck and giving Steve every goddamn inch of exposed skin. He bites down on his own bottom lip to stifle the moan that’s desperately fighting to break free. 

He wants to kiss Steve so badly, but he still can’t see and the thought of their first kiss being a misfire landing on Steve’s nose or chin is cringeworthy. Bucky thinks that maybe Steve will move first; after all, it’s impossible for Steve to not know, for him to be at all unsure that Bucky wants him, too. 

“Hm-mm,” Bucky hums through a lazy grin, “that wasn’t the breeze I was talkin’ about.” 

“No?”

Bucky shakes his head. “Nu-uh. That one’s…”

_ Think, Barnes. _

How it’s best described isn’t something that he can narrow down with one word. Softer? Hotter? 

Yes. Yes to both of those. Bucky’s tongue quickly darts out to wet his lips. God, he wants to taste Steve.

“That one’s what, Buck? Tell me.” He can feel Steve’s words against his lips and he _ knows. _Somehow he’s always known. Steve is right there.

“S’better,” Bucky slurs, practically drunk with lust. He tips his chin up the tiniest bit to chase the sensation of Steve’s breath on his lips. 

For the briefest microsecond, Bucky thinks he feels the soft, warm press of Steve’s mouth before it moves away. He unknowingly releases a tiny whine and the skin of his brow furrows under the silk of the scarf. The sensation is back as Steve’s lips feather along Bucky’s right cheek, just under the edge of the fabric. He hears Steve chuckle, deep and soft. Then, on his left side, the sensitive skin of his neck just under the angle of his jaw, Steve’s lips are back. Bucky bares his neck again for Steve. The tickle from his beard against Bucky’s throat is more than he expected, and a soft breath escapes from somewhere deep inside. 

Bucky bites down on his own lower lip again. “Please,” Bucky begs on a sigh.

The next thing he knows Steve’s mouth surges forward, covering Busky’s lips and kissing him hungrily. Bucky whimpers in satisfaction and parts his lips obediently for Steve, giving him complete control of their kiss. Steve’s cradling the back of Bucky’s head with a big hand and pressing hot, open mouthed kisses against his mouth. There’s a little hitch of Bucky’s breath as Steve licks out more possessively against his tongue and then into his mouth, tasting him like Bucky’s always belonged to him. And it’s so fucking good, too. Steve tastes of whiskey and something sweet, and the way he kisses is exactly what Bucky’s been looking for. Steve kisses like can’t get enough of Bucky, like he’s some kind of drug and Steve’s an addict after just one taste. 

They finally part for a moment, and Steve pushes the blindfold up before his warm hands frame Bucky’s face. Fingers slide back into Bucky’s hair and then Steve’s diving back into Bucky’s mouth. Steve gives Bucky’s hair a tug and pulls his head back so he can move to mouth at his neck. Steve’s tongue follows a tendon up as it disappears beneath the angle of Bucky’s jaw and he can feel the pressure as Steve sucks at the skin just enough to make Bucky wonder if the mark he’s making will stay long enough for him to have to deal with in the morning.

There’s a brief moment when Bucky’s eyes are opened, and he notices the lights in the bedroom have darkened and the city beyond the glass balcony shines like a million stars in a metropolitan galaxy. They’re at the threshold of the balcony and Bucky should have heard the traffic noise, but he’s been so laser-focused on Steve. Nothing sounds better than Steve’s commanding voice, or the soft sounds of their mouths as they claim each other. 

Steve walks Bucky back a few steps, turning to press him against the glass railing and grind his hips against Bucky’s. Steve’s clearly hard, and Bucky has been for quite some time now, but the way Bucky’s heart jumps up into his throat isn’t what he wants. He stiffens at the way he’s trapped between Steve and the glass, realizing with a surge of panic how high up they are. 

“Wait— ” Bucky pants, grabbing onto Steve like his life depends on it and at the same time turning his head to the side to break their kiss. He looks behind him and _ no, _that wasn’t a good idea. “Too high… please,” he begs as Steve mouths the skin of his neck.

Steve’s lips don’t leave Bucky’s neck except to mumble, “Shit, sorry,” and Bucky’s body is whipped around so he’s on the other side of Steve from the glass. The movement makes Bucky’s head spin but then strong arms close back around him and suddenly he’s being lifted up and carried back inside, Steve’s giant palms cupping his ass. 

Bucky leans in and captures Steve’s lips again, picking up right where they left off. Now he’s the one leading the kiss, so he takes advantage of the position they’re in. He cups Steve’s jaw with one hand and holds onto Steve’s shoulders with the other. 

Somewhere in the back of Bucky’s mind he thinks Steve’s beard is just as soft as it looks, then there’s a thought floating at the edge of his subconscious, something about beard burn. That, too, floats away as soon as Bucky wraps his legs around Steve’s waist. Bucky’s almost six feet tall and he’s never been manhandled like Steve’s manhandling him. If it was at all possible to get harder, he would, but he already feels like he’s about to come in his pants. He pulls on Steve’s hair, moving his head to place their mouths exactly where he wants them. He’s never felt in control with Steve like he does now, and he plans on enjoying every second of it. 

“Fuck,” he curses into Steve’s mouth. “The bed— oh, Steve, the bed.”

“Yeah,” Steve agrees, then he moans,_ “Jesus.” _

Steve carries Bucky across the room to the giant bed and climbs up with his knees before lowering Bucky to the mattress. They break the kiss once or twice when their bodies demand attention in order to keep from losing balance, but it never lasts long. Bucky reaches up and grabs the tie still dangling from Steve’s neck and pulls him back down into another kiss. 

That time, it’s Steve’s turn to lead. Steve moves completely above Bucky, shoving Bucky’s legs wide with his knees. There’s a silent fury in the way Steve’s moving, like he’s had to control himself all evening, like it’s all Bucky’s fault, and this is his punishment.

“Uh,” Bucky grunts softly as Steve’s teeth clamp down on his lower lip. Steve’s hands are everywhere all at once, and trying to keep up with the frenzy they’re moving in is dizzying, so he decides to just enjoy the ride. It’s easy to submit to Steve, the way he takes control and leaves nothing to question. It feels fucking amazing.

Bucky’s had to stay in control for too long. He’s put himself personally in charge of everything from his childhood onward. He spent his youth fighting to convince the social workers to keep him and Becca together, spent his time in college studying his balls off and working enough hours to make sure they had a place to live, food to eat. He didn’t want Becca to have to worry, so it’s his own fault that the responsibility has always been on his shoulders. 

Beneath Steve, though, he can just _ be. _Steve takes the lead as if it’s as natural to him as breathing. 

“Fuck, baby. You’re so beautiful,” he says as he sucks more kisses against the sensitive skin of Bucky’s neck. 

Bucky preens under the praise, arching his back and grabbing at the muscle of Steve’s sides. 

_ “Steve!” _ he hisses when Steve reaches down to run his palm along Bucky’s hard cock as it strains against the fabric of his pants. 

“That’s it, baby. Fuck, I love the way my name sounds in your mouth. Let’s get these off, huh?” he says, stroking along Bucky’s length a little firmer. 

It’s not really a question. Even so, Bucky feels safe with Steve, like if he didn’t want this, Steve would stop. That much is confirmed when through their lust-filled haze, Steve pulls back, perhaps realizing that what he said just sounded like a another command rather than a question. He pauses, looking into Bucky’s eyes like he can see straight through him, can hear everything he’s thinking.

“Do you want this?”

Bucky stares right back, drowning in the desire he’s feeling. He nods, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he answers Steve. _ ‘Yes, I want you. I want every last thing you’ll let me have.’ _

But it’s not enough. 

“Need ya to say it, Buck. Need ya to tell me if you want me to keep goin’ or not,” Steve says quieter, dipping his mouth down against Bucky’s for a slower, softer kiss. “Its okay. We can always stop, all you gotta do is say the word.”

“No,” Bucky breathes against Steve’s mouth and he can feel Steve begin to pull away. Bucky fists his hand in the length of Steve’s tie, pulling him closer. “Please, don’t stop. _ God, Steve… _ I want this, I want you. _ Please.” _

Steve surges forward again and their mouths meet in the middle. Bucky can feel Steve’s palm against his throat now as he holds his jaw between his thumb and fingers, and the pressure there makes his breath hitch. It’s not a lot though, and Steve’s by no means choking him, but just the implication that it _ could _happen has Bucky seeing stars behind his eyelids. 

_ That’s new. _

Steve pulls Bucky’s tie free and his hand trails lower to continue popping open the buttons of Bucky’s shirt. His hips keep grinding down against Bucky’s and the next thing Bucky knows, Steve’s pulling on his belt.

_ Fuck— it’s really happening. _

Steve is making quiet but deep, throaty noises into Bucky’s mouth every few rolls of his hips, and he’s not gentle when he yanks Bucky’s belt open. Steve sits back on his haunches and as soon as Bucky’s pants are open, he flips him so Bucky’s on his stomach. 

Bucky can hear the soft rustle of fabric and then Steve reaches down, pushing his shirt up. When Steve mouths at the skin at the small of Bucky’s back, the hairs of his beard tickle a little, and Bucky catches his lip between his teeth as he breathes out another little moan as he arches into Steve’s touch.

Steve continues pushing the shirt up Bucky’s back, following the length of his spine with hot, open mouth kisses and big hands, caressing his body. When he gets higher, Steve pulls Bucky onto his side, and they’re front to back. Steve’s pressing against Bucky’s body, and a warm palm comes around to Bucky’s front. Bucky can feel the press of Steve’s bare chest, the hard planes of muscle warm and comforting against his back. 

Steve’s fingers find Bucky’s nipple and tease it until it’s pebbled and hard as he rolls his hips against his ass. It’s like Bucky is on the best kind of ride; he’s dizzy as they climb up, up, up and he can’t wait to see what the ride has in store for him once they get to the top, crest the hill... 

The fabric of Bucky’s shirt is bunched up under his arms, and Steve moves his hand higher from teasing his nipples until his fingers caress the hollow of Bucky's throat. 

“Lift up, baby,” Steve whispers, guiding the shirt off until Bucky’s top half is completely undressed. “That’s it... God you’re so beautiful.”

The way Steve is running a hand all over Bucky’s skin while at the same time his other arm has them pressed together, wrapped up in a possessive embrace is making it hard to concentrate. Steve bites down on the muscle of Bucky’s shoulder and rolls his hips, nudging the hard line of his cock against Bucky’s ass, and Bucky wants it so bad. 

No, he decides, he needs it. Bucky’s not in control of the soft, desperate sounds he’s making as he begs Steve’s name, because Steve is doing this to him. And Bucky wants him to keep going, to make him feel good every minute of every day. He knows this is probably a one night stand and he’s getting way ahead of himself, but again, he doesn’t care. 

_ He just needs it. _

Steve reaches down and his hand finds its way into Bucky’s boxers, warm palm wrapping around his hard length, and Steve begins to stroke him. Bucky’s breath hitches and he lets out a strangled cry when Steve runs his thumb in soft circles around the head of his cock, spreading the precome there just underneath the crown where Bucky’s always been most sensitive. The way Steve touches him is… it’s like he can read Bucky’s body like an open book. 

His touch is gentle, soft; it’s not what Bucky was expecting, so once again he feels out of step. Just when Bucky thinks he’s able to predict what Steve’s going to do next, something like this happens and he’s off balance again with their power dynamic. His head is spinning and his body is over-sensitive, the touch making him respond so much stronger than he was prepared for. Bucky shudders a breath and blushes hotly, his head tossed back against Steve’s shoulder as another tiny whine breaks free from somewhere deep in his body.

_ “Jesus, Buck,” _Steve groans into the shell of Bucky’s ear as he rolls his cock against his ass again. “You gonna let me fuck you, huh? I’ll make you feel so good, baby.”

“Yeah,” Bucky pants, baring his neck again for Steve’s mouth, his teeth. “Fuck me Steve. I— Please, I want it _ so bad.” _

Steve lets go of Bucky’s cock and grips his jaw, possessively bringing him in for a kiss. It’s messy and dirty and exactly what Bucky needs to get lost in the moment. There’s been a nagging feeling in the back of his brain all evening; it’s not loud enough to call an alarm, _ per se, _but it’s something that Bucky prefers silenced nonetheless. He knows what he’s doing isn’t exactly without consequence. Hell, the moment he had his first sip of whiskey that evening was crossing the line, but the thing was…

_ “Steve,” _ Bucky chokes out through a keening noise. 

Steve has turned him over on his back and he hums a grin against Bucky’s body. He runs his teeth lightly against Bucky’s nipple after laving his tongue over it. _ Fuck, _Steve knows exactly how to play his body.

...but yeah, the thing was, Bucky didn’t mind taking the risk. He had already spent so much of his life being the responsible one— always doing what was best— that he actually _ wants _ to be reckless for once. 

Steve shrugs the rest of the way out of his clothes before reaching past Bucky and toward the side table drawer, fishing out a bottle of lube and a box of condoms. He tosses it beside him on the mattress and goes back to marking up Bucky’s body. Hickeys and bite marks pepper the sensitive skin of his back— and now that Steve’s got him on his back— Bucky’s shoulders, his chest and stomach are getting the same treatment.

_ Jesus, _ Bucky thinks. He’s never been so marked up all at once, but he fucking loves it. Steve continues down Bucky’s body until he reaches his navel, and he swirls his soft tongue in a circle around the edge before dipping it in, only to suck another hot, wet kiss against it. Secretly, Bucky’s so fucking glad he’s always been on the lean side, and his stomach is beautifully stretched out beneath Steve. 

Steve’s beard tickles at first, but when he goes at his navel more, Bucky can’t help but think that _ this… fuck, _ this is what it would be like it Steve were to open him up with his tongue. A hint of a scratchy burn, a little ticklish at first, but then so fucking hot. There’s no question in his mind that Steve’s showing him what he’d do if he were rimming him, and Bucky has about a tenth of a second to connect those thoughts before Steve’s grabbing at his pants, pulling them off his body in a fluid, graceful motion.

Steve sits back for a moment, kneeling between Bucky’s legs which have fallen a bit to each side to accommodate him. Steve's cock hangs heavy and full, flushed red and leaking between his legs as his heated gaze trails down Bucky’s body. It makes Bucky feel so incredibly exposed and on display like that for Steve, so he’s frozen in place. He watches as Steve’s eyes, glowing in the reflection of the city lights around them, trail down slowly then stop. Steve licks out against his own lips as his heated gaze drinks in Bucky’s cock, flushed and lying heavy against the flat of his stomach. Steve must decide something, because his eyes resume their journey back up Bucky’s body and a wicked grin curves his lips. 

“You’re so goddamn gorgeous, Bucky,” Steve says as he leans in again, caging Bucky in beneath his looming frame. He sucks a hot kiss against Bucky’s neck, then his mouth again before he says, “M’gonna open you up real slow, fill that pretty hole of yours with my fingers ‘til you’re beggin’ me for my cock. But you know what?”

Bucky swallows hard. He has no idea what Steve’s planning next. 

“What?” he whispers against Steve’s mouth, reaching up and wrapping his arms around Steve’s ridiculous shoulders and drawing him in for another kiss.

“M’not gonna give it to ya,” Steve teases, nipping at Bucky’s lips and chuckling darkly. 

Bucky makes a confused noise and Steve just swallows it down, like he’s been waiting for it. He rolls his hips down against Bucky, making him forget what he was pouting about. Instead he moans wantonly, arching up against Steve. Steve catches their cocks in his big palm and gives a couple of nice tugs as he rolls his hips again. 

“Not gonna let you have it. Not ‘til you’ve been a good boy and come on my fingers. I’m gonna suck every last drop outta this sweet cock of yours; _ fuck _— gonna take it all, baby. Then when you’re nice and wet and open for me, you know what I’m gonna do?”

Bucky shakes his head no, because he has no fucking clue where Steve’s going with any of this, but he wants to know. His expression is close to begging; he’s looking up through his pretty gray eyes, big and round. 

Steve grins down at him and kisses him softly. It starts as something sweet, reassuring and languid until it turns into something darker, dirtier. Steve’s tongue is fucking into Bucky’s mouth and it’s dizzying. He sucks on Steve’s tongue every time he lets him, and he’s just about to try going for Steve’s cock when Steve speaks again, voice deep and commanding. 

“I’m gonna fuck you like you ain’t never been fucked before. Gonna give it to you so good, Buck.”

Bucky thinks his brain has officially broken. He can’t think, can’t speak, all he can do is whimper and moan desperately into Steve’s mouth as he holds onto the thick, solid muscles of Steve’s body. 

Holy fuck, It’s going to be a goddamn religious experience or some shit.

The first time he feels Steve’s finger, he jumps a little, simply because it’s been a long time since anyone has touched him there. Steve is watching, though, and he moves to nuzzle into the soft crook of Bucky’s neck, kissing him and whispering sweet words of encouragement. He makes his way down Bucky’s body slowly, lips leaving a trail of fire behind every kiss, every scratch of his beard burning against Bucky’s sensitive skin until he gets to the base of Bucky’s cock. 

Steve licks a hot stripe from base to tip, slow and deliberate. In no time, Bucky’s leaning in to the way Steve touches him, his finger still slowly circling his entrance. Steve sucks the head of Bucky’s cock into his wet mouth and Bucky breathes out a desperate whimper. He’s died and gone to heaven. Steve presses a little firmer, and Bucky shivers once he’s finally breached. 

“There you go baby, good boy,” Steve purrs. He’s kissing his way up and down Bucky’s cock, following a vein and his other hand is rubbing reassurance against the flat of Bucky’s belly. _ “Jesus, _ you’re so hot and tight inside, Buck. You doin’ okay? That feel good?”

Bucky realizes he’s gripping the bedding with both hands and his eyes are shut tight. He needs to relax, he knows he does, but this is always the hardest part for him, letting go and allowing another person inside. It’s not that he doesn’t want it, because, _ fuck… _ Steve’s mouth is amazing, and now that he’s moving inside his body, going deeper and creating pressure near Bucky’s prostate every now and again, it’s _ dizzying. _

Bucky’s breathing hard, his head is lolling from one side to the other as he tries to focus on something, anything other than the hot, stinging pressure he’s feeling. He looks down when he feels Steve’s throat engulf his entire length and sees Steve looking up at him through those bright blue eyes, watery from the intrusion in the back of his throat. His lips are so fucking sexy stretched around Bucky's cock like that. Bucky releases the death grip he has on the bedding beneath him and runs a hand through Steve’s hair, the motion a welcome one if he goes by the way Steve’s eyes flutter shut. 

Steve sucks him deep again and presses another finger into Bucky’s body once he’s more relaxed. It’s slow but determined, and it makes Bucky’s hand tighten in Steve’s hair. Steve moans, his eyes drift closed, but when he looks back up through the fan of ridiculously unfair lashes, they’re darker and heated. Bucky does it again, tugging at Steve’s hair to see if that’s what it was he liked, and Steve’s brow furrows, his eyes closing and a groan vibrating deep in his throat.

“Jesus— fuck, _ Steve,” _Bucky breathes, his back arching from the heat and wetnesss and vibration in Steve’s mouth. 

If it were at all possible to smirk with a cock in your mouth, then that is exactly what Steve would be doing. He twists his wrist and changes the angle of his fingers, just as he sucks back up with more pressure, his cheeks hollowed. 

“Fu_ — ah! Steve!” _ Bucky cries again, because apparently that’s what his vocabulary consists of now, just attempts at saying _ fuck _ and aborted sounds and Steve’s _ name. _

Bucky’s positive his body has never been this responsive before — or maybe nobody’s ever been able to zero in on what he wants like Steve can — but he’s gone from tight and anxious to desperate for more in no time. God, he feels greedy, he wants Steve to give him more, to hurry up and stretch him open so he can fuck him already. Bucky doesn’t know if this will ever happen again and he’s impatient; he wants it so deep he’ll be able to feel it for days after Steve's gone.

“More! _ Jesus, _I need —” he’s so close but his breath is cut off by another finger pushing past his rim. 

“I know what you need, Buck,” Steve says, shushing him and jerking him at the same time. He’s being fucked open on Steve’s fingers and Steve’s swallowing him down again. He has complete control over him, and Bucky’s never felt so good, so wanted and whole. It’s a mind fuck, it what it is. 

_ “God, Ste— eve!” _ Bucky yelps as something Steve does burns hot and bright in Bucky’s body. 

Whatever it is has him seeing stars behind his eyelids and crying out underneath Steve’s grip. He’s writhing under a thick, heavy arm as Steve wraps it low around his hips, holding him in place. There’s that pressure again, even deeper this time and the suction’s back. Before he knows it, Bucky’s coming hard into Steve’s mouth. His entire body seizes up, and he feels Steve’s tight throat working around the head of his cock as he takes every last drop, just like he said he would.

_ This is it, _ he thinks. He’s dead, had an aneurysm or something with his dick down another man’s throat and he's on his way to the afterlife, floating so high that nothing can touch him. 

Like a balloon with a string tied to nothing, Bucky’s at the mercy of the wind. He closes his eyes and the rest of his senses go fuzzy, but he thinks he can hear Steve murmuring something. He’s not sure what. All he knows is his entire body’s thrumming with pleasure, and his pulse is so loud in his head. He can feel it everywhere, the rushing sounds like currents of wind, blowing him along as they please. 

Time slows to a crawl, and Bucky shivers again. He’s left exposed, but then there’s warmth and reassuring pressure. Steve’s body is covering him, his lips kissing at his skin and he can feel the telltale tickle of a soft beard accompanying the low rumble of words. 

_ He’s good. _

_ He’s beautiful. _

_ He did so well. _

_ Steve’s gonna fuck him now - does he want that? _

“Yes, please,” he murmurs, nodding, sweet and polite as can be. 

A soft kiss is pressed to his forehead. Steve tells him again that he’s so good, and his voice is earnest. Bucky believes him, because he's right there, and the murmurs of praise rumble low in his chest as he covers Bucky with the warmth of his body. Bucky's lips are caught in a slow, deep kiss and he tastes himself on Steve’s tongue. Remnants of the taste of come mix with the whiskey and he burrows himself under Steve, wrapping his limbs around the comforting mass above him. 

“Steve,” he hears as someone continues to murmur the name, but it’s in Bucky’s voice. He’s the one begging Steve’s name over and over, and he can’t make himself stop.

“Shh, baby,” Steve says, hushing him with another slow kiss. “There, that’s it. You’re so goddamn beautiful, Buck. Did so good for me.”

“Please,” Bucky begs again when they break free because he’s not been poured completely back into his brain. Bucky doesn’t know what he’s asking for, he just knows he needs more of Steve.

_ He’s beautiful. He was good for Steve. _

There’s movement above him and then Steve’s spreading his legs, folding them back and teasing his entrance. The blunt head of Steve’s cock stretches Bucky’s rim, and he whimpers Steve’s name as his hands scrabble for purchase in the bedding again. 

It feels like Steve’s got dick for days and Bucky’s being split open with a burning stretch. His heart jumps into his throat and he almost loses his nerve.

“Steve— _wait,”_ Bucky opens his mouth to say in a moment of doubt, but then Steve’s past that first tight ring of muscle and Bucky feels so goddamn full. “Oh my God! Steve— fuck that’s_—_ _yeah.”_

He’s going to die again, it’s so good. He whines out a desperate sound and grabs for Steve’s powerful thighs when he thinks Steve is going to pull out, but Steve stays there, soothing him with soft whispers of encouragement mixed in with bitten off groans. 

_ “Christ, _Buck, so fuckin’ tight,” Steve pants against Bucky’s mouth. 

He grasps Bucky’s ankles in his hands and pushes them back, bending Bucky until he’s practically folded in half, his long legs spread open and stretched wide. Steve rocks his hips forward carefully, inch by glorious inch until he stops again, hips flush against Bucky’s ass. 

Steve is fully sheathed within Bucky’s body and he feels a flutter as Bucky tries to accommodate the intrusion. Steve collapses above him, giving a full-body shudder and biting into the soft skin at the crook of Bucky’s neck. 

_ “Fuck...” _Bucky breathes again, threading his fingers through Steve’s dark blond hair and holding on tight. 

He’s completely consumed by Steve, every sense flooded by him and nothing else. Bucky’s body quivers again, then settles. He grins, coming back to himself now that he’s recovered a bit after coming his goddamn brains out, and when he purposefully clenches around Steve again just to be a little tease, Steve’s teeth sink into his skin once more. The nip is followed by a sharp suck, and Bucky is positive he’s going to have to be strategic about dressing in the morning, but he really can’t bring himself to give a shit about that once Steve pulls back. 

There’s a dark flash of amusement in his eyes and Bucky thinks that Steve might _ actually _be the death of him. That last sentiment is confirmed when Steve leans in and grinds his hips in such a way that his cock pushes right up against Bucky's sensitive prostate, and Bucky yelps in overstimulation. 

“Fuck,” he whines, every nerve ending raw. “Steve… oh god.”

There's a sad little spurt of come that dribbles out of Bucky's half-soft cock, and he's still so sensitive he can feel the spike of pleasure everywhere , even in his _ teeth. _

Steve cocks a brow and grins. He keeps his eyes on Bucky as he sets to rolling his hips harder, deeper. 

Bucky’s eyes roll back in his head, and he’s thankful that the way Steve is fucking him now isn’t such a sharp, white-hot jolt like before. Not that it wasn’t amazing, but this is, too. _ It’s so good. _

Steve holds onto Bucky’s hip and grinds the flat of his belly against Bucky’s overstimulated, almost soft cock, giving him more of the fullness he loves. It’s intense still, like being split open, filled up, but in the best way possible.

Their lips meet again in a messy, desperate kiss and Steve keeps grinding into Bucky until without warning, Steve pulls out. He moves Bucky by his ankles again, this time flipping him over. Steve straddles the backs of Bucky's thighs and squeezes them together between his knees. There's rough hands squeezing at the flesh of Bucky's ass, spreading him open before Steve’s hand cracks down against his ass, not hard but just enough to sting. Bucky knows he’s going to get what he wants now. Knows Steve will give it to him good so he slides his hands up to the headboard right as Steve pushes back in _ so deep. _

Bucky jumps and his breath hitches when Steve grabs his left arm and pulls it behind his back to use for leverage, but he keeps his right hand steady so he can push back into Steve. Their rhythm picks up, and Steve fucks into him with purpose. Sounds of skin slapping, Steve grunting and Bucky panting, and punched out moans echo in the room and Bucky's next to tears, it's so good. He doesn't know how he's gone so long without being touched by a lover, Steve is bigger and certainly more controlling than Bucky has ever experienced, but he finds himself desperate for it— for Steve’s approval. Right now Bucky’s body is so greedy he can’t bring himself to care how it makes him sound. 

He'll take everything Steve will give him, because in this moment, he feels alive. He’s desired, and it’s got him feeling whole.

It's a lot to unpack, so he shoves it all back down and focuses on the pressure pooling low in his belly. He's hard again, and he's pretty sure that if Steve doesn't let up, he'll be able to come just from this… just from being filled and fucked into the mattress below him. He's almost there, and Steve‘s rhythm falters, his breath coming out in strained puffs like he’s trying to keep from coming. 

“Bucky,” Steve says as he stops moving, just kissing against the back of Bucky's neck even as Bucky makes a noise of protest. He was so goddamn close. “Fuck, c’mere.”

Steve climbs off of Bucky and helps him turn over. He takes the arm that was pinned behind Bucky's body and presses soft kisses against his shoulder and bicep as he crawls back over on top of him. They’re face to face again and Steve meets Bucky's mouth with equal tenderness. They're both sweaty, and the room smells heady, like sex, but Steve's being so gentle now. 

Steve pushes back in, holding Bucky by the jaw and stroking his cheek as they kiss. Bucky doesn’t want to think about all the other things it makes him want, so he tries to get lost in the sensations again. It's easy to do, because even though they’re moving slower now, Steve’s body above him, Bucky being stretched open on Steve’s cock, it’s still the best thing Bucky's ever felt. 

Steve's breathing out half-spoken words against Bucky’s neck and rolling his hips deep when his breathing becomes more erratic. Bucky thinks Steve is close, so he reaches between them and starts jerking himself off, determined to come again before Steve finishes. He doesn’t want to let this go to waste, he needs it, and his eyes squeeze shut.

“Oh, Buck,” Steve breathes, and there's so much bliss and tenderness in his voice. Steve kisses Bucky's forehead and pushes back his hair. “Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. I'm so close… want you to watch me when I come inside of you… want you to see just how fuckin’ good you make me feel.”

Steve takes Bucky's cock in his hand, starts thumbing at the precome drooling from his slit, and then jerks him in quick, even strokes. Steve’s determined to make him come again, and he leans in for another kiss. It's more tongues dancing between open mouths than an actual kiss, though, because Steve's eyes don't leave Bucky's.

“God, you feel so good,” Steve whispers, and Bucky's fingers dig into the meat of Steve's ass. “You close, sweetheart?”

_ Sweetheart. _ There it is again. Bucky’s heart skips and he nods, because yes, he's _ right there. _The way Steve looks at him makes him want to cry, and he doesn’t trust his voice. 

“Together?” Steve whispers, hope in his voice. 

Bucky nods again, and his eyes flutter shut until he feels the back of Steve's knuckles gently brush along his cheek. It's so tender it takes Bucky's breath away for a moment, but then he blinks up through the sting of tears as his body arches and he comes, a cry parting his lips as his body tenses and he spills over Steve's fist.

Steve is right behind him, and his brow furrows. His eyes go darker and he bites down on his lip, a low groan breaking free from somewhere deep in his chest as his lips part and he spills into the condom. He's so beautiful when he comes, his face slack and mouth parted. 

He's murmuring Bucky's name as he brushes the hair back off of his forehead again, caressing Bucky’s face, and their eyes haven't broken free of each other yet. Somehow that connection, that naked vulnerability is more intimate than anything else they've done, and Bucky _ has _to look away. 

Steve doesn't fight it, just collapses and rests his face in the crook of Bucky's neck like it's his new favorite place to be. He stays there, his lips worshiping Bucky’s skin and the contrast between the tickle of his beard and his gentle kiss makes makes Bucky shudder.

“Be right back,” Steve whispers against Bucky’s lips some moments later. He kisses him again, gentle but short before he pulls out and moves to the side of the bed to tie off the condom.

Bucky watches with his head turned to the side but he can’t bring himself to move his body just yet. Watching Steve walk across the room completely nude to the en-suite isn't the worst thing Bucky could think of doing on a Thursday night, and he grins lazily as he watches the cut of muscle along Steve’s back move. 

Bucky stretches and sinks into the bed a little deeper before wondering where his clothes landed. He hears the water running and knows he should get up and find his things, but he’s still a little woozy from the whiskey. Either that, or Steve fucked his _ actual _brains out. 

Bucky chances a moment to close his eyes and remember how it felt to have Steve kissing him like he was something precious, and he trails a finger along his lips before nearly jumping out of his skin at the unexpected sound of Steve’s voice.

“I ever tell you how gorgeous you are?” Steve asks, then huffs a gentle laugh when Bucky’s eyes fly open.

Steve circles around the foot of the bed and stops next to Bucky, sitting on the edge nearest him. He’s got a warm washcloth in his hand, and he holds it back for a moment when Bucky mutters his thanks and goes to reach for it. 

“May I?”

“Oh. Uh, sure. Thanks?”

Steve cleans him gently, taking special care to not overstimulate Bucky’s soft cock. He leans in, kissing Bucky slow and soft as he finishes with the warm cloth. Just as soon as he’s done, he drops the cloth, pulls up a light blanket from the foot of the bed and climbs back in next to Bucky. He pulls Bucky against his chest, and Bucky goes with it, wrapping his arm across Steve’s middle. He tries his best to not feel awkward in the silence, but it’s also kind of nice. It feels sweet, peaceful almost.

Bucky rationalizes that it's not cuddling, really. It's probably just Steve's _ thing. _ Like bossing him around and making him come on his fingers, or pulling Bucky’s arm behind his back, or the intense eye contact; it's just how Steve likes to fuck and come. It can't mean anything else, because Bucky doesn't— he _ can't _ mean anything to Steve. They hardly know each other. He's just a conquest, and now that Steve's fucked him, he'll probably move on.

_ Thank u, next. _

Bucky tells himself there's more than one reason those lyrics exist. But at least Steve’s not one of those guys who just throws you out on your ass once they’ve finished with you. That would have sucked, and he’s already got so many unexpected emotions bubbling up to the surface. He didn’t factor these feelings into his decision to sleep with Steve, he kept telling himself he just wanted to get fucked, and yet...

It was amazing, and Steve had made him feel things he’d been missing for what seemed like forever. But now it was done, and things were bound to get weird. Bucky still had to work with the guy, get though the retreat and act like nothing had happened.

“You okay, Buck?” Steve asks, and Steve’s voice rumbling against beneath his ear startles Bucky, pulling him abruptly out of his thoughts. Steve presses another soft kiss to his forehead and huffs a soft laugh. 

Bucky wants to keep that feeling, tuck it away somewhere to pull out and secretly hold it close whenever he feels lonely. He doesn’t understand how it is Steve’s still making him feel so special. The guy’s seriously too good to be true. 

_ Maybe Steve Rogers is a serial killer. _

Steve pulls Bucky in closer, wrapping his arms around him and kissing his forehead again. Steve gently holds Bucky’s jaw in his hand and guides his lips up for another kiss. He holds him there, and Bucky can’t help but think he’s imagining the gentle expression in his eyes before he lets go and settles back against the pillow.

“So you’re from Bed-Stuy, huh?” Steve asks, basically out of nowhere, as far as Bucky’s concerned. 

“Mhmm,” Bucky offers, hesitating for a second, but then he continues, “Originally from Indiana, but my Ma moved us to Brooklyn when I was six. She loved the city, said she’d always dreamed of seein’ her name in lights.”

Steve drags his hand up Bucky’s arm, pausing to massage his muscles a bit more once he reaches his shoulder and neck. It feels nice, and his eyes drift shut for a moment. He doesn’t want Steve to think he’s not interested, because he really, really is. 

“How about you? You’re from D.C., right?” Bucky asks.

Steve’s hand doesn’t stop massaging Bucky as he takes a deep breath and sighs into Bucky’s hair. He presses a kiss against the crown of his head. Who knew Steve was so physically affectionate?

“I’m from Red Hook, actually. Worked in D.C. for quite a while. But with the new administration so much changed, and I realized it wasn’t for me, ya know? I’m just a kid from the queer side a’Brooklyn.”

“What did you do in D.C.?” Bucky asks, taking the chance to get to know more about Steve. 

Steve’s hand stops massaging Bucky but he doesn’t stop touching him. He’s trailing his fingers lightly up and down Bucky’s arm when he murmurs quietly, “I was a Special Officer with SHIELD, ran a couple of Strike Teams.”

Bucky stills. “What?” he asks, picking up his head to look Steve in the eye. “Are you serious?” 

Steve looks away, his brow furrowing the slightest bit and Bucky can feel him stiffen beneath him. Something about it obviously makes him uncomfortable, so Bucky doesn’t really want to push for information. 

“Hey, I’m sorry Steve. I didn’t mean to—”

_ “—No. _It’s nothing you said, Buck,” Steve says quickly, his eyes earnest and reassuring. “I just don’t usually talk about it. After working in that field so long and then the way things changed practically overnight… I have a lot to work through still, I guess. I mean, it didn’t all hit the news. It— well, it got pretty ugly internally, with the way people were so polarized. Let’s just say bad things happened and I lost my partner. That’s why I left.” 

Bucky didn't know what to say, so he laid his head back down on Steve’s chest and wrapped his arm tightly around his torso, hoping the physical demonstration of affection would help, even if just the tiniest bit. It was better than saying the wrong thing. He’d heard plenty about the alleged infighting with SHIELD. After all, it was the country’s biggest privately funded national security firm. There had been all sorts of what was dubbed “fake news” about rogue Strike Teams carrying out personal agendas on behalf of corrupt politicians in D.C.

“I’m sorry to hear that, Steve. That must have been awful.”

“Mmm,” Steve hummed. He began carding his fingers through Bucky’s hair. “It was. Dugan, that was his name, he was one of my best friends. We had a great team, the best, really. When we got split up and I wasn’t there to cover his six— well, things just went to shit. That’s why I came home. Dropped everything and threw myself head first into my first love.”

Bucky stiffened. Did Steve really start talking about his first love while they were both lying naked in a bed? Sure, he had brought up an ex earlier when they were dancing, but this was different. They literally just finished fucking. 

Bucky didn’t know what to say, so when he opened his mouth and something stupid came out, he really wasn’t too surprised. “You mean Peggy?” 

“What?” That time, it was Steve’s turn to look at Bucky in confusion. 

Fuck it, Bucky thought. He wasn’t going to let Steve act like he couldn’t see that there was something there between he and Peggy. It had been painfully obvious. 

“You know, Peggy, the hot chick you bumped me for the other day.” 

Steve laughs, a hearty, full sound under Bucky, and then he leans up, rolling them so he’s leaning over Bucky and looking down into his eyes. Bucky tries to keep an impartial expression on his face, though he really wants to just push Steve off of him and stomp out. But that wouldn’t be very mature, and he’s a adult, goddammit. 

“No! Peggy’s my best friend, Buck. That’s it,” Steve says, a disbelieving grin on his lips. “My first love is art. That's why I went into design, right out of school, but then I joined SHIELD and put all that on hold.”

“Oh,” Bucky breathes, not sure what else he should say.

Steve grins wider and kisses Bucky’s lips, a short, chaste gesture. “Peg was in town on a last minute layover between meetings in London and Manhattan. That’s sweet, though.”

“What’s sweet?” Bucky asks, suddenly feeling silly and patronized at the same time, but all in fair jest. Even so, his cheeks flush and he squirms under Steve’s gaze. 

Steve trails a finger down from the hollow of Bucky’s throat, across his collarbone. “The way you’re still mad about Peggy.”

Bucky opens his mouth to protest, but Steve cuts him off, “She’s really just my friend, Buck. I mean, yeah, she was my first kiss, but that’s it. Don’t get me wrong, if I was into women, then she’d probably be my first choice, but…”

“But _ what?” _ Bucky asks, a relieved smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

Steve leans in to kiss Bucky again, and his hands begin roaming. He lightly trails his fingers down Bucky’s chest to his nipple and circles it lazily just to watch Bucky shudder a breath when he lightly catches his nail against the nub.

Steve finally pulls back, breaking their kiss and he shrugs. There’s a smirk in his voice when he says, “Thought I made it pretty obvious how much I liked your cock in my mouth, Buck. I dunno, maybe I need to show you again?”

_This._ _This is how Bucky Barnes dies. _

**THE END**

  
  
  
  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This checks the following Stucky Bingo boxes: Forehead touches, Blow jobs, Hair pulling, Hypersensitivity and "Together"


End file.
